


From the passenger seat

by BonesInTheOcean



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Driving, Everything is Fine and Nothing Hurts, M/M, Modern AU, Tender - Freeform, baby's first fic, hand holding, hartving, the terror 2018, yearn baby yearn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 22:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonesInTheOcean/pseuds/BonesInTheOcean
Summary: A Hartving fic in which John Irving spends most of their drive home in awe.
Relationships: Thomas Hartnell/Lt John Irving
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	From the passenger seat

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Death Cab For Cutie's "Passenger Seat," the idea came to me via the incomparable longwalkshortpier (who also graciously offered to beta this fic)!

Driving down the empty highway in the middle of the night felt rebellious to John. It was strange, but it was cathartic at the same time. He was a man of a strict routine; to be out this late was something he’d never have considered if Tom hadn’t asked him to meet his family back in Gillingham. Christmas was fast-approaching. 

❖

Tom Hartnell’s phone vibrated, there was a moment’s silence as he replied to the text message and set it on the arm of the couch they’d been lounging on. The times that John spent in Tom’s apartment were deeply treasured. He could relax. He could lay in his boyfriends’ arms for as long as he needed to. He could make a home here. 

“Mum says she wants to meet you. Says it’s been long enough she’s had to wait to meet the man in the pictures. What say you, Mr. Celebrity?” Tom gave him a wink.

“Does she?” John asked, with mild surprise. He had heard stories from Tom about his family. He knew his older brother (also named John, making for a confusing and awkward first few months), well enough having been a former coworker of his doing historical reenactments aboard floating museums. He’d heard stories of Mary Ann and her law school aspirations, of Charles and his uncanny ability to make a perfect model of any ship in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, and of Betsy, the youngest Hartnell sibling, with a personality large enough to change the tides. While he’d never had any personal correspondence with their mother Sarah before, it was clear that she was a lovely lady who wanted nothing more than for her children to live happy lives. John made sure her wish was fulfilled in Tom’s case. “She’s alright with that? With me coming to her house?” 

“Of course she is, silly. Why would she have suggested it if she weren’t?” 

John chewed the skin of his lower lip. “I dunno, I just don’t want to make a bad impression-”   
Tom wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulder and pulled him closer. “You could never. Just relax and look forward to it. The scariest thing you have to worry about is Betsy.” A gentle, reassuring kiss was planted on John’s forehead. 

❖

John had his window rolled down just a touch. Despite the single glass of wine he had with supper, his face was flushed and warm. The air smelled cold and crisp. He glanced over at the driver’s side to Tom, almost as if to study his features; the man’s face somehow became even more beautiful when it was awash in moonlight. His reddish blond hair had a way of always falling perfectly. John’s heart began to swell in his chest the longer he gazed at him. It was like looking at a painting in a museum, like staring at every single brushstroke the artist made that in its own way added to the unique, quiet beauty of the-

“You passed the Betsy Test!” Tom exclaims, breaking his concentration.

“And I was worried about your mother! You never told me Betsy scared the postman so badly he has to leave the mail at the neighbours’ house now. I can’t say I blame him, Thomas.”    
Tom laughed and rested his hand on the other man’s thigh. “Just you imagine living with her. You alright then, John?” 

He took his hand in his own. Their fingers intertwined as John thumbed Tom’s knuckles, breathing in the fresh November night air as they drove homeward. Tom drew John’s hand to his lips, pressing a deep, sincere kiss into the man’s own knuckles. He could get used to staying out late, as long as Tom was there. The lights of home were not yet visible, but that didn’t matter to John in this moment. 

“Yes, Tom.” John answered. “That and more.” 


End file.
